


Red Rug

by FloatAlong



Series: From Town to Town [13]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Abuse, Action, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29862504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatAlong/pseuds/FloatAlong
Summary: It's taken almost two weeks, but Nate is finally ready to confront the gang that kidnapped his boyfriend. He needs to be smart about it, though, or risk getting the both of them killed...
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Male Sole Survivor
Series: From Town to Town [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097183
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Red Rug

**Author's Note:**

> Back again with instalment number 13, and our heroes are experiencing all of the good fortune you might typically associate that number. I mean... I didn't plan it like that, though. Just a coincidence. As ever, these fics have very little continuity besides the 'versions' of the characters themselves, so don't feel pressured to read them in any particular order.
> 
> CW: Serious warning here - if you haven't seen the tags, the whole theme of this episode is literal slavery, which is obviously a very dark subject. I can promise you that things will by and large work out for the best, and I certainly haven't written this fic from the perspective of 'glorifying' anything horrible, but if themes of slavery, sex slaves, sexual abuse or kidnapping are a hard no for you, then you might want to give this one a miss.

The raider veteran – she had introduced herself as Chancer – smiled. It was an ugly, nasty kind of smile, missing teeth and any sense of amity or reassurance.

‘We have so many little chickies for you to choose from, my love. I’m sure we’ll be able to find one that meets your… specifications, given the right price.’

Nate straightened his clean, striped suit and adjusted the brim of his untarnished fedora as an attempt to convey wealth. ‘That won’t be a problem, I can assure you. I’m very eager to continue with proceedings.’

‘Of course my love, of course… Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll bring a selection out for you?’

‘That would be perfect,’ Nate agreed coldly, and sat in the armchair he was offered. He retrieved a clean packet of cigarettes and a gold-plated flip lighter from his pocket and began to smoke.

The first in Chancer’s ‘selection’ was a farmer by the look of him; late forties and a soft body, unused to combat. Nate could only watch as he was dragged into the centre of the dingy room, made to stand on a faded red rug and turn slowly in circles for Nate’s approval.

‘We took him in about a month ago,’ Chancer was saying. ‘Don’t be fooled by his age; he’s very passionate, and obviously very well hung.’

‘I can see that,’ Nate said, looking over the poor soul’s naked body and pretending to be weighing his interest. ‘I’d say he’s not without his charm, but I am definitely looking for someone a bit younger. Early twenties, perhaps.’

‘Of course my love, of course,’ Chancer said. She leaned near and whispered to another raider, who took the settler away. ‘We’ve got plenty more tucked away,’ she added to fill the temporary silence, flashing Nate another sickly smile.

Not for much longer, Nate thought. Not for much longer, not for much longer.

Eventually her subordinate returned with someone new. Younger, yes, early twenties – but not the one he was looking for.

‘Very dashing, isn’t he?’ Chancer was saying. ‘Good strong jaw. Excellent buttocks. And such a charming smile, it’ll melt your socks off.’

The kid was not smiling. He probably had been attractive once, Nate thought. Not anymore. Whatever time he had spent in this den had robbed him of it; his dark skin was dry, his eyes were downcast, and his facial hair was shaved poorly and unevenly. He was just so… resigned.

‘Smile,’ Chancer ordered.

The kid forced his face into a crude impression of a smile as he turned himself around on the red rug, his arms raised. Nate fought back the urge to be sick.

‘He is… most attractive,’ Nate said, unable to bear anymore. His best bet was to appear impatient. ‘Still not quite what I’m looking for. I’d like to see another.’

So he saw another, and another, and another. The youngest couldn’t have been a day over nineteen. All of them had the same vacant, unresisting countenance. They clearly weren’t excited by the prospect of being bought – any hopeful notions of being treated better on the outside had obviously already been and gone. Nate’s collar was getting hotter and tighter, the stuffy severity of his suit making him feel like an oligarch. Every slave who had seen him considered him a villain, and it wasn’t a part he wanted to play.

‘This one can do an impressive trick,’ Chancer was saying of the latest. ‘Show him your trick, go on.’

Nate had been lost in thought, trying to distance himself from this place mentally, so before he knew what was going on he found himself watching in horror as the kid bent over, exposing himself fully, and inserted a brown glass bottle into himself. Nate squirmed uncomfortably, and tried to pass it off as arousal. ‘Very impressive.’

‘He can do more. Any size you can think of. Do the wine bottle, go on.’

‘That won’t be needed,’ Nate said shortly. He waved his hand vaguely, and the guy was taken away, through the same dark doorway to God-knows-where as all the rest of them. What horrors would Nate find when he eventually went through that door himself, he wondered?

‘You certainly do have… particular standards, my love,’ Chancer said, a little irritated. ‘Are there any other criteria we should know about? Anything to help narrow it down?’

A thought occurred to Nate. ‘All of your men… they seem very submissive.’

‘That’s how they’re best kept, my love,’ Chancer explained. ‘Some of them are clever, and very quick to accept their new lives… and some of them are not. Some of them need a little time to assimilate first. I have helpers for that, to show them who’s in charge.’ She smiled that awful smile again. God, she had absolutely no soul.

‘I prefer someone with a little fight in them, still,’ Nate said, not smiling back. ‘Someone feisty. Someone I can overpower and dominate on my own terms, over and over again.’

‘No offence my love, but that’s more our job,’ she said. ‘We pride ourselves on breaking our boys in so you don’t have to.’

‘It’s what I’d like, though.’

‘Well…’ Nate could see that Chancer was conflicted. Offloading someone who refused to submit would save her the trouble of ‘breaking’ him herself, but if a wealthy client was overpowered and murdered by one of her slaves, it would be terrible for business.

Nate rose from his chair and pulled back his jacket, revealing his .44 Magnum revolver. Kellogg’s pistol, in fact. It probably felt right at home in a hellhole like this. ‘I know how to handle myself,’ he said reassuringly.

Chancer eyed his side arm, clearly impressed. ‘Alright then, my love. Let’s see if we don’t have someone a little _spunkier_ for you. Actually, I have one in mind already.’

Nate really hoped that this was him. He didn’t know how much more of her catalogue he had the strength to browse.

After another excruciating minute, another lost soul was dragged in. He looked up to see if it was MacCready – and his face fell.

Oh, this was MacCready, alright. But he looked worse than Nate had ever seen him, and they’d weathered some terrible times. He was scratched, bruised, unclean, unshaven, and drooping. His face was smeared with spent tears and dried blood. From the way he moved, it looked like his ankle had been broken.

It had taken Nate almost two weeks to track down the gang that had stolen his boyfriend from a settlement after they’d both gotten a little too drunk to handle themselves one night. Two weeks of barely eating and barely sleeping; just running across the Commonwealth infiltrating raider camps, squeezing sources and chasing rumours. He had done everything in his power to get here as quickly as he could, but all he could think now, looking at the tired and beaten body of his partner, was that it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.

MacCready wasn’t speaking, and didn’t seem too aware of what was happening. He was resisting being shoved, but ultimately acquiesced, bleary-eyed, making his way onto the rug just like the others before him. He hadn’t noticed Nate.

‘What do you think of this one, my love?’ Chancer asked.

Nate was aghast. Looking at MacCready now, he didn’t know that he was in any state to help in a firefight. There might not be any hope. ‘I – I like him,’ he managed.

MacCready raised his head, recognising the voice. His eyes widened when they focused on Nate. _Don’t give it away_ , Nate thought as loudly as he could, willing MacCready to hear him. If Chancer spotted that moment of recognition, it was game over.

But she only seemed happy that they were finally making progress. ‘That’s wonderful, yes, wonderful… is there anything more you’d like to see of him? As I said, this one hasn’t been broken in yet, but I’m sure he’d still be willing to show you a thing or two, if it meant getting a little reward later. Eh?’

MacCready narrowed his eyes, unsure of what part he was supposed to be playing. Nate took control; he was the smooth talker, after all. ‘Is he a good shot? I’d prefer a man who can look after himself.’

‘He was in possession of multiple firearms when we brought him in, as it happens,’ Chancer explained. ‘So presumably he’s very proficient with –’

‘Give him a gun,’ Nate requested casually.

Chancer laughed a quiet, nervous laugh. ‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea…’

‘I’m willing to pay extra for a man who can shoot.’

‘Be that as it may –’

‘Fifteen thousand caps for this man, right now, if he can shoot that bottle off that table over there without stepping off the rug.’

Kerching. ‘Wedge. Give him your pistol.’

Wedge didn’t seem sure, but Chancer was in charge and he did as he was told. A different guard instinctively approached as well, aiming his gun at MacCready’s head, ready to take a shot if he tried anything funny.

‘Oh, don’t bother,’ Nate said as coolly as he could manage. He un-holstered Kellogg’s pistol, and pointed it at MacCready’s head. He tried not to quiver, and blinked furiously, hoping the tears welling in his eyes would dry before they spilled. ‘He needs to know who his new boss is. I’ll handle him if he tries anything.’ He cocked the hammer.

The guard looked questioningly at Chancer. This was the final test. Come on, come on…

She clearly was unsettled by this many guns on display at once. No raider got to her age without a little nous, and her instincts were telling her to be cautious. Seeing her apprehension, Nate reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a wad of pre-war money, dropping it onto the grimy coffee table. ‘Fifteen thousand,’ he repeated.

It worked. Chancer nodded at the guard, who lowered his weapon and stepped back. This was it. Now or never. They were in control – the two of them with weapons raised, and one, two, three, four others in the room. One of whom was now disarmed. They could do it. They had to.

MacCready shakily aimed his pistol at the glass bottle he was supposed to be hitting. Nate tried to control his breathing, waiting to follow the other’s lead. After a tense moment, everything finally seemed to happen at once.

MacCready ducked and span around, shooting the armed guard behind them in the arm. As soon as he had ducked out of the path of Nate’s revolver Nate fired, now having a clean shot at Chancer’s head which split open and voided its contents onto the wall behind her. He pushed over the coffee table and hid behind it as the fourth guard opened fire on him, reloading as MacCready charged the unarmed guard, cracking him over the skull with the butt of his own weapon. Nate rose from his cover and shot the last guard standing, puncturing his gut and sending him to the floor just as another of his bullets embedded itself in the wall beside MacCready.

Nate panted, catching his breath. ‘Holy fuck. We did it. That was close.’

‘There’s one more!’ MacCready shouted, alarmed.

‘Huh?’

A final raider, attracted by the commotion, made his way through the darkened doorway that the slaves had been brought in from. Before Nate could react he had fired a bullet into his arm. ‘Fucker!’ he shouted.

MacCready leaned around the corner and took him out, the last shot of the fight tearing through the raider’s neck and projecting yet more blood up the walls.

Finally, silence.

‘Babe… shit, you okay?’ MacCready stumbled over to where Nate was slumped, bleeding out through his arm.

‘There’s… stimpaks in my bag,’ Nate said hoarsely, and MacCready fetched them. After a little medical attention, he began to feel better. ‘And one for you, come on. _I_ was supposed to be rescuing _you_ , you little bastard.’

MacCready laughed, then laughed again, then broke into tears. ‘I didn’t think… Babe, I was worried I wasn’t gonna see you again…’

‘You should know better than that. Of course I came for you.’

MacCready sobbed happily, and clung to Nate’s chest. Nate could feel himself welling up again. He stroked his partner’s hair gently.

‘I’m just… I’m sorry it took me so long. I hope you’ll forgive me.’

MacCready raised his head. They looked into each other’s tired, sorry eyes for a moment before kissing a long, slow, grateful series of kisses.

‘You’re the best thing in my life, you know,’ MacCready said after they broke away. ‘You’re what makes it worth stickin’ around at all. I feel like… you, I mean… What I’m sayin’ is, I think I –’

Nate could see what he was trying to say, but this wasn’t the time. ‘Come on, we need to get up. There’s two more guards outside that’ll be getting suspicious soon, and we’ve got – how many slaves?’

‘About seventy, at a guess.’

‘Fuck. Seventy slaves to save. It’s a good ten miles to our nearest friendly settlement.’

‘Maybe we should wait here a day or so, then?’ MacCready asked tentatively. ‘I’d really like to… thank you more personally…’ he rubbed a finger against Nate’s chest suggestively.

Nate smiled sadly. ‘All in good time. I won’t be able to relax until I get you home. Now come on. I don’t want to die here.’

They scrambled to their feet, ready to face another challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations for making it to the end! This is unlike anything I've ever really written before, and my first try at creating anything with an action/thriller sort of feel to it. How did I do? Was it tense at all? Do let me know if you thought so and if you enjoyed it, as I love receiving feedback either way.
> 
> As ever I'm on twitter as @FloatFill if you want to follow, and I'll be back next week - with the final episode! If you thought this one was dark, well, don't worry, I promise I'll make up for it with the final instalment. We've all earned it, and I think Nate & MacCready have too.


End file.
